The Universality of Forgiveness

THE UNIVERSALITY OF FORGIVENESS*
How Alaska Young Would Never be Found No Matter How Hard We Look
(Thoughts and Blabbers on “Looking for Alaska”)

I don’t remember if this is my first John Green book. I have a faint memory of reading The Fault in Our Stars but I don’t know whether my recollection comes from reading the book or just watching the movie. Anyway, I really liked John Green teaching me World History and Literature in his Crash Course videos**, so I was not very surprised that I would love him as an author.  (Yeah, I know, he’s a famous author and all, how could I not love him, but love doesn’t work that way for me fellas, I don’t love an author just because everybody else does, in fact, the more well-loved by the public something or someone is, the more I feel repulsed by them, I’m stubborn like that).

I picked this book because it was on the list of books that involves mental health problems. I never really had the intention of reading any book by John Green (shame on me, I know) because it was you know, too popular already, everyone I know probably had read all of his books. So boy, am I lucky to decide to pick this one up.

This book talks a lot about love, friendship, fucked-upness, getting through life despite aforementioned fucked-upness, how the world is not fair, and keeping on living despite knowing that the world is not fair (seriously, what is the noun for “not fair”? How come there is none, it is a valuable adjective that I would’ve used every day), and a lot of complicated situations that a lot of us knows too well. One thing that I really appreciated about this book is that, even if it is fiction, the characters, their beliefs, their values and the underlying reasons for that, are very real. After reading the book, I felt like I really met The Colonel, Pudge, Alaska, Takumi, and Lara.

One thing I noticed about John Green’s books (this one I read, TFIOS, I probably read and then watched the movie, Paper Towns, I watched the movie), is that he develops really really interesting characters. Take Alaska Young, Margo Roth Spiegelman(?), Augustus Waters. They are carefree individuals who (I think) refuses to conform to what other people does or says. They do what they want, and they have firm values and beliefs. But since, I haven’t read Paper Towns and I am not sure if I have really read The Fault in Our Stars, let’s focus on Alaska Young and her own brand of complicatedness.

Mr. Green described Alaska as a “gorgeous, clever, funny, sexy, self-destructive, screwed-up and utterly fascinating” character. And I couldn’t find any better way to describe her (seriously, that’s seven adjective in one line already, what more do we need?). She reminds me a lot of myself, you know, hoarder of books, terribly moody, sometimes friendly, sometimes the greatest bitch that you will ever encounter, although I am in no way gorgeous, clever, funny, sexy and fascinating in any way, probably just screwed-up and self-destructive. She also thinks about a lot of things that I also wonder about. Her questions are also my questions.

How will we ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering?

At one point in the story, she answered this question, although it is debatable whether the way she answered it (straight and fast) reflected the events that occurred in her life towards the end. Whether it was her choice or not. If the answer is yes, well then, she’s incredibly stupid, but also incredibly brave. I wanted to judge her because I was reading Pudge’s point of view, and damn he was right, Alaska is worthy of hate if her friends found out that what happened to her was intentional. As Pudge said: 

“Meriwether Lewis’s last words were, “I am not a coward, but I am so strong. So hard to die.” I don’t doubt this, but it cannot be harder than being left behind.”

I have never really lost anyone close to me. So I wouldn’t know how this feels. And for a split second, while I was reading, I felt guilty of all the dark thoughts that have entered my mind. The amount of pain and suffering that the people left behind might have really been so great, it’s as if the pain of the one who went away was passed and divided among them. Killing yourself doesn’t stop the pain it just spreads it around.

The thing that I know about, is the feeling of wanting to let the suffering end. It may be selfish, but isn’t it also selfish to ask someone to keep living when there is nothing left to it for her but suffering? If she has already equated her life with sadness, loss and pain, isn’t it also selfish for us to ask her to keep on feeling these things when she could, in one flick of her finger, end it all and be in peace?

Towards the end of the book, Pudge decided to forgive Alaska, whether it was her choice or not. He forgave her, for leaving him behind and for the pain that she caused. He thought that she has forgiven him too, for his shortcomings as friend, for failing to save her when he might have. Thus comes the title of this entry, The Universality of Forgiveness.

Mr. Green asks:

“Is forgiveness universal? I mean, is forgiveness, really available to all people, no matter the circumstances? Is it, for instance, possible for the dead to forgive the living, and for the living to forgive the dead?

I think it is important to know what forgiveness means to the people who is asking and giving it. If forgiveness simply means the words “I forgive you” or, “we’re okay” or “that’s alright” then, obviously it’s not universal, a dead person couldn’t give it to the living because uhh, he’s super dead (hah! Hamilton reference). But it becomes a different story when the living tries to say these words to the dead. Sure, he could say it, above his grave, in a eulogy, in a prayer, however he wants. But whether or not it means something, since the person who should be on the receiving end of the said forgiveness wouldn’t be able to hear it anymore, is not clear. Would that really be forgiveness, or would it be just empty words uttered into the air?

What really qualifies forgiveness?

Does it lie in the acceptance of the fault and the regret of having done it in the first place? Does it lie on the fact that the aggrieved one has moved past it and hold no grudge or bitterness against you anymore?

So I guess, I wouldn’t know how to answer Mr. Green’s question. But, you know, I think guilt, for having done something wrong, is not given to us by the ones we have wronged. It’s something that we have given ourselves. Same as with anger for being wronged, it’s not an emotion that was forced on us, it is something that we have somehow decide to feel. So there’s that. Maybe if those emotions are just within us, maybe forgiveness is too.

*Comes from Question No. 1 of John Green’s “Some Intentionally Vague and Broad Discussion Questions” section found at the end of the book.”  

**John and his brother Hank along with other awesome people teaches a lot of interesting subjects in this series of videos, go to youtube, type crash course, and eat out knowledge.  

This is Not A Very Funny Story

This Is Not A Very Funny Story

Some of My Thoughts about the Book “It’s Kind of a Funny Story” and much more of my thoughts about its amazing author, Master Ned Vizzini

It’s probably one of the best books I’ve read. It’s not very complicated, but it touches on really fucked up things like life and dying and unwant of life and wanting to die. It’s honest. And honesty will really get you a long way. Especially on topics like this.

Depression and suicide are things that are not very easy to talk about. Believe me, I’ve tried. But somehow, Master Vizzini was able to do it so artistically that it definitely touched my heart (if I have one). I am not officially diagnosed of anything, but that doesn’t change the fact that I could relate very well to the things that he is talking about. That feeling of being stuck, waking up into the nightmare that is life, cycling, battling tentacles. I know how all of that feels. Heck, I know it every single day of my life. And like the main character Craig Gilner, there hasn’t been just one time that I tried to quit it all.

I relate too well with that character, Craig. His life is pretty neat if you would look at it, a supportive family, friends, great school, no dramatic backstories, no tragic past, but it didn’t stop him from feeling the way he does – depressed, wanting to die. Sometimes, people just take in what is happening in their worlds quite differently than others. As people looking from the outside, it’s easy for us to say that other people have it better than we do. Like “Hey, why should she be sad, at least she have a family that supports her” or “hey, why did she kill herself over a failed subject, she’s very rich and famous!” or “at least she has a home, I don’t even have one but I don’t kill myself” or stuff like that. But life doesn’t hit everyone the same way. The things that you are yearning to have can be the same things that other people are dying to lose. And sometimes the things that doesn’t mean much to you, could be everything another person could ever ask for. It’s a crazy thing.

But less about the story, it’s amazing, I know everyone would agree with that (if you don’t well, how dare you?). What has been picking my mind most about it, is Master Vizzini. I haven’t researched about him well enough, well, at least not well enough that I would remember the details in the dead of the night. But when I looked him up, I saw someone accomplished, someone doing well in his life. He’s got awards for writing, he’s pretty famous in the literary scene, and the very fucking fact that he has books published, man, this person is really doing great. So why? Why could he possibly decide to do that?

It’s one thing that you’re an accomplished writer and you have this beautiful gift of turning words into stories that would change people’s lives, but he wrote something about suicide and depression and the fucking value of life. He made Craig realize how important it is to live, he, in that very mind of his, developed this very fascinating tale of how someone so messed up, was able to see some sort of light to keep moving. To keep living. So how? How could that very same mind, gathered up the resolve to finally do it? When, why and how did the Bobbys or the Dr. Minervas or the Noelles of his brain let that happen?

Don’t get me wrong. I do not have any ill thoughts about Master Vizzini. Like I said, life doesn’t hit everyone the same way. And I don’t know how life hit him. And how hard. I will never know. But it just makes me sad.

The truth is I thought as long as you have something, anything, no matter how small to make you hold on to your dear life, you wouldn’t do it. You wouldn’t get there, no matter how close you are. Just one thing. One simple thing.

And on reading his book, it sounded like he’s got it. Tons of it. And he shared it to me, and millions of other people who read and loved his book.

But with what happened to him, I now think that it’s not like that at all. When you get there, and I mean, really get there, nothing will be able to stop you.

It’s like people like me, like Master Ned, have this place inside our mind that we keep circling every day. We get near to it, sometimes we walk far away from it that we forget it even exists, and sometimes it sucks us right back, but we never really get to it. Or maybe it’s a pretty door, a very beautiful door that we always wanted to open, and sometimes we’ll touch the knob, sometimes we hold it real tight, sometimes we knock just to see what is there on the other side, but for some reason, we never really open it. Maybe because we see another door open, or maybe because there was knocking on the other side of another door, or maybe because we don’t think it’s the right time. But when we do open that door, no other doors would matter, no matter how equally pretty it is. It’s like once you decided to open that door, it lets in this really really thick fog that forbids you to see anything else.

I like that door representation. I could extend it to like, when everything in your life fails, all other doors are locked, except that, let’s give it a name. The Door to Oblivion. So when schools sucks, the school door is locked, and family sucks, then the family door is locked. And sometimes, some aspect of our lives are not just locked. Its doors are rotting and vanishing and we watch it with our very own eyes but we can’t do anything about it. All doors could be locked or vanished, except the door to oblivion, to which we hold the key. It would never be locked for us.

Hah. I like that key representation too. I’m actually starting to have this picture of how our lives are full of doors, but the only one who has a key is the door to oblivion, and not everyone is given the key too. Only some. Like Master Vizzini, and he used his.

It’s… I don’t really know how to end this thing. I wish I could write a big realization in the end, but there’s nothing here. The questions I have asked are still questions I have.

Introduction to Book Review Section

I have written several entries about the books that I have read and its impact on my life, and it was all just stashed away in my laptop. I feel like they are wasting away because nobody would be able to read it, (not that anybody would be interested) but, I just want to put them out there, so I’m writing this introductory entry for that section.

I really liked reading those entries because I am conceited, but also because, I loved writing them, and it allowed me to release all the glorious emotions, the unspeakable and overwhelming feelings that remained in me after reading a specific book.

Books are really special to me. Ever since I was young, it has been my constant, and most of the time, only companion. I would spend days in the corner of my grandmother’s room reading. I would finish all the stories in my Filipino and English textbook after the first week I have gotten them, and during summer breaks, I would rummage all the books in our house and read it. College English books are my favorite because they feature long amazing stories. When I eventually ran out of them, I would move on to the science books, planets, stars, rocks, human anatomy, whatever is there on my grandmother’s shelf.

I was never given my own book to read when I was younger. Everyone knows I love reading, but for some reason, my parents, not even my grandmother bought me a book. I got my very first own book when I was in Grade 4. I could remember because that is where we had a Scholastic Book Fair in our school. I got myself a Sabrina: The Teenage Witch paperback. My grandmother paid something to my adviser, and I tricked her into believing that my grandmother allowed me to spend the change for a book. My grandmother was furious when she found out what I bought. You see, she was this very religious, very pious lady that abhors everything that is remotely related to the dark side, and the smartass that is me bought a Witch book. Who would not be furious? That is also beside the fact that we do not have a lot of money, and the amount that I have spent on my ridiculous book could’ve been spent on food or other basic human necessity.

But despite this, I strongly believe that the greatest mistake any parent could ever do to their children is not giving them a book to read. 

But enough with the tragic childhood story.

Books are amazing. Have I stressed that enough?

So starting from now, there would be entries about book reviews! This makes me really excited, and I hope, some day, this stuff would make sense to someone.

Random Finds

My life like now feels like a vast empty desert. And I am wandering like a lost child. Alone, surrounded by nothing but sand, looking for something, not really sure what, something other than the emptiness that surrounds me. I try to build sandcastles as I pass. So that there could be something in this vast nothingness.  I build castles small and big, with high roofs and towers, sometimes I build little sand people. I try to give life to this dead barren land. But with a gush of the wind, everything can be blown away. And when I look back, everything I built disappeared. Like it was never there. The places where the sandcastles where, are as empty as it was before.

 But I still try to move forward and continue to build some more. Even if it is knocked down everytime. I have to. Because it's the only thing other than me in this desert. Even if it could be gone with a blow of the wind, I still have to build it. Because it is something. And an ephemeral something is still always better than an eternal nothing.